


Not Just A Nightmare

by Aliea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has one of his worse nightmares yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just A Nightmare

Sweat ran down his brow as he blinked against the bright sun, his eyes gritty with sand and heavy from lack of sleep. 

He was hot, so damn hot, always hot! He could never escape the heat, even in his dreams. It was like it followed him, followed him into  the shade, into the water, back to London, to the fog and the rain. It followed him!

The grip in his gun increase as he held it out, again blinking against the sun and just for a moment his environment changed to a dark bed room with a man holding his hand up his lips moving,  but as quickly as it came it was gone and he was back in the light and before him was the enemy a gun held up towards John.

"Put the gun down!" John ordered in Pashto as his finger flexed on the trigger of his own gun.

"John." The man replied not only in perfect english, but also with a well formed English accent.

Frowning he lifted his gun higher looking down the barrel at his target.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded.

"John please, you need to wake up." The man stepped closer but kept his gun aimed at John.

"Back up! Back the fuck up or I will shoot! " this time John shouted.

The man stepped back and the slowly, ever so slowly, lowered his gun before crouching and placing the gun to the ground.

"Okay, now you." The man said as he stood, his hands raised up in surrender.

"Not till you tell me your clean, no more weapons."

"No more, I swear!" 

"Keep you hands where I can see them!" John ordered as he shuffled forward, transfering his gun to a single hand while his other hand reached out and started to pat the man down. Staisfied John started to lower his gun when shoots sounded behind him causing him to turn, his gun finding a mark and firing twice watching as another of the insurgents went down. Spinning back to the man he growled and took aim.

"John no, you need to wake up!"

"I am awake!" He blinked and again the dark room appeared, the man once again changing.

"John?"

"Sherlock?" John blinked again, the image before him changing with each blink, until it stopped and he was stood with his gun aimed at Sherlock. "Oh god."

"John its okay." Sherlock moved with a steady ease as he lowered his arms and reached out to gently take the fully loaded and ready to fire gun from John's hands.  
John stood, locked in place, unable to move, his breathing harsh and shallow even as Sherlock took the gun from his hands, switching on the safety and placing the gun on to the bedside locker, Sherlock’s bedside locker. Frowning John looked about again registering everything fully for the first time.

He was stood in Sherlock’s simple yet stylish bedroom, the door behind him and the bed to his left handside. Sherlock was dressed in his blue dressing gown and a pair of pajama bottoms, but no top. John then looked down at himself, dress in his desert gear, gear he kept in the bottom of his wardrobe, in a box that was padlocked beacuse it was also the place kept his gun, the gun now out of reach but had just moments before been threatening Sherlock’s life.

Taking in a shuddering breath John started to shake.  
"Oh god...oh god ohgodohgodohgod!"

"John it's okay." Sherlock stepped even closer his hands wrapping around John's wrists pulling them down gently, stopping John from pulling at his hair. "It's okay."

"No it's not!" John pulled his hands free and just stared at them. "I could have shot you...I...you were the enemy and you had a gun, I could have killed you!!" 

"Hey..." Sherlock places his hands on either side of John’s face, his fingers moving softly over stubble and damp skin were sweat continued to roll down his face. 

"I'm fine, look at me, not a scratch."

John looked up from his hands still shaking and still trying to slow his beating heart.

"I've never had a dream that bad before."

"No, but this case, it's hit close to home?"

"It...yeah, the guy, the victim-"

"You served with him, I know. You could have told me John." 

John closed his eyes and just lent into Sherlock till his head pressed against Sherlock’s chest, the hands on his face moving from his face to his back, holding him close and allowing him just to recive the comfort he so desperately needed.

"I...we...I cant carry on helping with this case Sherlock. We had an...an arrangement when we were stationed together."

"An arrangement?" 

"Yeah, we...looked after each other." John sighed knowing Sherlock would need more than that. "He helped to scare off the nightmares."

"Ah...you were intimate."

"Yes." John answered at the same time as he hide his face against Sherlock’s very naked chest, so causing his lips to brush over smooth skin. 

"Shit, sorry." He pulled back but Sherlock kept hold of him.

"John-"

"I need to go back to bed...back...to sleep." He sounded terrified, even to his own ears and he was sure Sherlock would hear it too.

"Stay here?" Sherlock asked causing John to look up with a frown.

"Where would you sleep?"

"In my bed."

"Where would I sleep?" 

Sherlock shook his head but smiled. "In my bed."

John continued to frown then his eyes widened. "Oh...ohhhh! No it's fine."

John regretted the words instantly at the flash of pain in Sherlock’s eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you." John said quickly just as the arms around him lossened. "I just held a loaded gun at you, I had no idea who you were and I could have killed you. I don't want to wake with my hands around your throat."

Sherlock looked down, holding John's eyes as he spoke then once again placed his hands on John's face before leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.

"Maybe I will chase them away for you, even keep them at bay."

John shivered slightly as warm breath ran over his skin his hands reaching up to cover Sherlock’s much larger ones.

"You don't want me in the way that helps."

 John said softly as he pulled Sherlock’s hands from his face and took a step back.

"John-"

"Intimacy helps, sex helps, kissing helps, cuddling and touching. All the things you dont want."

"John-"

"It's fine, it's all fine. Just let me go back to bed." He went to turn but Sherlock grabbed his arm at the same time that he kicked the bedroom door closed before pushing John against it and then covering John's lips with his own.

John stood stunned for all of five seconds, he went still, his eyes widening and his heart stopped. It took five seconds for his brain to register everything going on, five seconds for nerve endings to fire, for signals to be recived and five seconds to remember exactly how to kiss. 

It was Sherlock’s tongue that restarted everything. It darted out, gently brushing John's upper lip, then his lower before running over the closed seem causing John to gasp. The air intake kicked everything back online and John found himself kissing the taller man back.

Fingers delved into soft messy curls as he went up in tip toes changing the angle and deepening the kiss eliciting a very low rummble of approval from Sherlock.

Grasping hold of what he could John pulled back and just held on as the two of them breathed in much needed air. When their eyes met they held each other,not daring to look away.

"Will you stay now?"

"If you kiss me again, yes." It would seem Sherlock didn't need to be asked twice as he went on to hungrily kiss and nip and lick at John lip's causing John to lose all sense other than th feeling of the other man in his arms.

This was right, his mind told him, this was good, was his body's thinking, this was everything, his heart shouted. Sherlock had always been his in a way he could never explain to any other, they belonged together, fitted perfectly with each other, complimented the other like no other could. Sherlock was his, and John was Sherlock’s, that was it, that was how it had always been and this was just the completion of something that had started with 'here use mine'.

That night Sherlock chased off the nightmares and every night after he kept them at bay. 

But just to be safe, John made sure to keep the gun on Sherlock's side of the bed.


End file.
